


It's Our Kind of Therapy

by Villainsaremorefun



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Late Night Conversations, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Villainsaremorefun/pseuds/Villainsaremorefun
Summary: "Maybe I like being hurt. Maybe I like being powerless. But I like being loved more."





	

“D’you think he misses me?”

Floyd stirs slightly, his light slumber broken by the voice slicing through the night. As he rubs his eyes, he props himself up on his elbows.

Harley is sat up on the bed, dangling her legs over the edge and nodding her head from side to side.

“Say that again, sweetheart?” Floyd requests, a deep frown blooming on his face. This really doesn't seem good.

“Mister J. He must miss me.” Harley repeats.

Floyd sighs, “He doesn't matter. We're safe here, away from him.”

Harley seems not to hear him.

“He said I was special, y'know that? He'd say I was a smart cookie, I was different, I understood. He said he loved me. Nobody’d ever said that to me. He made me feel like a teenager, all silly and lovestruck. I was. I loved him, with all my heart. But that wasn't enough. He wanted more from me.”

Floyd starts to worry. He's not sure what's opened the floodgates, but he just knows it won't be good for either of them.

“Harley, go back to sleep. We've already been up way too long.” He's approaching this like a wounded animal, his voice soft but firm.

“The burning was the worst. It hurt so bad. I felt like I couldn't breathe, it got right down my throat.” Even as she talks about pain, Harley sounds just as singsong and dreamy as she does normally, almost as if she isn't the one being put through it, as if somebody else is living it. 

“Something broke. It was just a little  _ snap.  _ Like thread. My threads broke. Nothing held together any more. Everything was a jumble. I had my first day of college before my eighth birthday party. Nobody came. She was so sad. That little girl, with her pigtails. She cried and she cried. Now I know that it's funny. She thought she had friends, she thought people cared. The only person that cared was - is - Puddin. He made her smile again, and she was such a sad girl. She laughed at all his jokes like you're supposed to. That makes him happy, when you laugh with him.”

Floyd moves forwards, his hands gently settling on Harley’s shoulders. 

“You don't have to think about any of that right now. You can just lay with me and relax. We can talk about it in the morning.” He whispers.

It feels hideously wrong, listening to Harley pick her way through mangled memories. He feels like he's intruding. He doesn't want to hear any more.

Harley doesn't respond. She's far away, and he can't reach her. He can't keep her safe.

“Pretty, pretty Puddin, with his pretty, pretty promises. I made him promise to love me forever, but then he stopped being nice. I thought it was a game, at first, something to help him get off, but it got harder and harder. I can fool the whole world, but I can't fool myself. That's why he said I was smart. I'd know he wasn't being nice, and I'd leave. He always thought I'd go running back. But he broke me. He made me kooky. Everyone's a little nuts, sure. I was nuts about him. That's where the joke was on me. He doesn't know how to love. He made me into what he wanted me to be and I begged him to do it. He'd hurt me and make me beg for more. Maybe I like being hurt. Maybe I like being powerless. But I like being loved more.”

Harley turns, laying down and staring up at the ceiling. She hasn't looked at Floyd once, she hasn't completely grasped that he is there, listening to her pour out her thoughts. It feels good, freeing, liberating. She's telling the gorgeous city sprawling just beyond the window about how ugly her mind is. It's easier and cheaper than a therapist.

“I know you'd never hurt me.” Harley whispers.

Floyd settles back down beside her, shaking his head.

“Never. Now, get some sleep, babydoll. We'll talk about it in the morning.”

He slowly leans over and places a kiss on her forehead. Obediently, Harley closes her eyes, relaxing into Floyd’s warmth.


End file.
